


sunbathing

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [15]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Internal Monologue, Introspection, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining, gabriel is sad and aziraphale helps, vv brief implications of nsfw happenings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: in which aziraphale kisses gabriel after the annunciation, and gabriel's left to ponder his relationship with heaven
Relationships: Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: gomens drabble hell [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Kudos: 21





	sunbathing

**Author's Note:**

> they totally made out after gabe came to earth its just the truth yknow??

gabriel doesn't know how to be kind with gentle things.

it's a lifelong problem he's made little effort to curve in any way. before the war, there might have been a gabriel who had sweet, soft hands, and a mouth that always said the right words, spoke at the right time.

but now - now he's different. he isn't nice. and angels don't have to be nice, he knows. but it's hard seeing something so _soft_ exist without falter, something so close to his image of an idealistic past. 

he knows it's not smart to romanticize what had once been, what will never be again. the world they'd shared without demons, without humans. only angels, living under god's fresh, guiding light. he misses that. misses being able to run his fingers through any angel's hair, kiss their pretty faces, make little declarations of love in every action he takes.

he's become so rough, it almost seems impossible for him to touch a delicate thing without cracking the spine that holds it together.

that's why he doesn't touch him. not until he makes the first move. not until he kisses him first, in an empty alley. just behind a quiet tavern, the owner too busy blowing out the last of their candlelight to notice. gabriel shivers as he holds aziraphale tighter, presses him up against the cold stone of an even colder building, and he doesn't - he doesn't know where to put his hands, what to do with himself, how to make this _good_ for aziraphale.

but aziraphale smiles, laughs about something gabriel doesn't quite understand, and tells him to _hurry along home then, don't want to miss the celebration._

gabriel would have much rather preferred celebrating with aziraphale, on cotton sheets, in a bed that might make more noise than either of them, but he returns to heaven regardless. it isn't soft there. it isn't sweet.

most starkly different from aziraphale's company, it isn't _warm._ it doesn't make gabriel want to wrap himself up in quiet words, or careful, cautious arms. aziraphale's knuckles turn pink when he's flustered. aziraphale's hands get shaky and meek. gabriel wants to run his fingers along the pathways of his palm, feel the trembling junctions, and count the lines ingrained in skin.

he wants to settle between the gap aziraphale would make for him between his legs, spread apart his thighs and _worship._ because aziraphale - aziraphale is worship, his very existence insists a certain degree of love to the holy mother. should he cherish aziraphale as a lover, he'd be honoring god as well. honoring what she'd meant for angels to do. 

they were built to protect, to embrace, to show forgiveness in the face of what a lesser being could not forgive.

but gabriel hasn't seen an apology - or an acceptance of one - be shared in heaven for quite some time. and he's starting to wonder if they'll ever be whole again. if the dissection of angels and demons, heaven and hell, has permanently wounded them. left an ache that the almighty would rather disregard than tend to. a disease untreated, uncared for

but that's doubt, he reminds himself. and it's not like him to doubt the almighty.

the next time he kisses aziraphale, it's after the crucifixion. and though he'd viewed himself as something irreparable, damaging with his presence alone, aziraphale only invites him in closer when gabriel trips over his own temper. 

and this is it, gabriel thinks. this is proof he's not made to hold breakable people.

but aziraphale lets him rest his head in his lap, slumped over a surprisingly comfortable bed. and they don't kiss again that night, they don't do much but settle in each others' warmth. but it's better for gabriel this way. it's better to be held, he decides, than to unravel his frustrations with impartial sex.

aziraphale keeps him there until the next morning. and gabriel finds he's never slept better in his centuries long life.


End file.
